Chapter 6 If He Wants a Fight, He’ll Get a Fight
Damn Ashen and his kisses. I hate being caught off guard and he definitely caught me off guard. If General Russo had caught us, he'd have more than enough reasons to kick me out of the Army. I know he wants to, I see it in the way he looks at me. My father hates me and.... I've come to terms with that.
Okay, I'm lying. I haven't. I've been so tempted to ask why he hates it so much. Everything I have ever done is to get is approval. I worked my butt off when I enlisted into the army and I worked even harder to become a Captain, but not even that fazed him. All that I did within a span of two years. I broke a fucking record. Moving up from a Soldato; Private to a freaking Captain in just two years. No one has achieved such a feat in such a short time in years. And not even that was enough to make my father proud. I will always be inferior to my brother no matter what I do.
I wipe the stupid tear that manages to escape as I stomp back to my room. I hate that I need my father's approval to feel useful and worthy and it hurts that I'll never get it, no matter what I do.
Just as I'm about to step into my room, I'm intersected by Giulia, one of the few friends I have in the army. She's a Captain, just like I am.
"You good? Did someone hurt you?" She asks with a dark gaze in her eyes. We're practically age mates but she treats me like a baby sister and is very protected of me. If my father wasn't a General, she would have definitely given him a piece of her mind. "Is it that prick?" She presses when I don't respond.
That prick, meaning General Russo, aka, my father, obviously.
"Not at all, Giulia. I'm fine. Just been a long day."
Liar, you're anything but fine.
Giulia's eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything. Instead she grips my arm and drags me to the cafeteria.
"Eat," she says, or more like orders when our food is placed in front of us on the table.
"I'm not hungry."
She sighs like a patient mother having to deal with her toddler throwing tantrums. "You look hungry, Amelia. Eat. Or I swear I'll force the food down your throat. Which will you prefer?"
I glare at her but do as she says. I know she's being serious when she says she'll force it down my throat.
Satisfied with the number of spoons I've swallowed, she proceeds to ask. "How was the raid yesterday? Seeing that you all returned empty handed, I'm guessing it didn't go well."
I drop the spoon with a sigh. "It didn't. That motherfucking fucker managed to escape."
"Ren Moretti..." She mutters. "If it makes you feel any better, the army has been chasing him and his family for years with nothing to show for it."
"It doesn't." I growl then clear my throat. "My unit is in charge of catching that slippery bastard and making him pay for everything he has done, and I intend to do just that — catch him."
"Do you want my honest opinion?" She asks and when I don't respond, she continues anyway. "I think your fa.... General Russo intentionally set you up to fail. He knows the chances of catching Ren Moretti is basically zero to none. He assigned your unit to be on charge of catching him just to mess with you. He knows it's a wasted and pointless effort."
The more Giulia speaks, the more my face darkens. Does she not have faith in me? Does she not believe that I am more than capable of catching Ren Moretti and making him pay?
She notices my expression and groans. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it."
"I'm not thinking of anything," I say quietly.
"Oh, please. Don't lie to me, I can read you like an open book.... It's not that I don't think you're capable. If it was someone else, I know for a fact that catching them would be a piece of cake for you, but it's Ren Moretti. There's a reason he's called the Shadow." She pushes her tray away and folds her arms on the table.
"No one knows what he looks like, where be lives. There are no clues about him anywhere. Sometimes, I wonder if he even exists."
"He does." I murmur, remembering the hand to hand combat that we had. "We fought.... Face to face."
Giulia's mouth pops open. "You saw the Ren Moretti?? And you saw his face?!"
"Well.... Not exactly. He was wearing a mask and he sounded weird. Probably not his real voice."
"You spoke to him?! That's more progress than the army has made in forever."
"We more like taunted each other."
"So, What's he like?" Guila asks with a gleeful look in her eyes. I wish I was this excited about meeting and fighting Ren Moretti, especially since it's nothing the army has ever done. But I can't bring myself to be happy. He got away and that fact alone douses my mood.
"He's tall, light and fast on his feet and broad chested, I think. I'm not really sure, it was really dark and it was raining."
"So, basically, he's like every other man in the city." She says with a tone of disappointment. "I was actually expecting something with the whole mysterious persona, and no one ever seeing him and being called the Shadow."
"Like what?"
"I was expecting he'll have wings, owns a dragon or I don't know ride a bike in the sky that makes it easy for him to disappear." She shrugs a shoulder and I shake my head.
"You're spending too much time reading those creepy and weird fantasy novels." I push my seat back and stand up. My butt is aching from sitting too long.
Giulia does the same. "They're neither weird nor creepy. You should give them a try, you would enjoy them."
"I'll pass," I say as we step outside.
Giulia and I leave the cafeteria, the chill morning air biting at our exposed necks. The base is waking up—footsteps echoing off the concrete paths, the low hum of engines in the distance where armored vehicles are parked for drills. Soldiers run laps, carrying weighted vests, rifles slung across their backs. The sound of punches hitting pads and the occasional shout of orders fills the open air. It smells faintly of sweat and gun oil, and my chest tightens. This is home. This is where I excel, where I feel alive, even if my father’s approval is a phantom I’ll never grasp.
We step onto the training grounds. The space is massive. Concrete floors for tactical drills, padded zones for sparring, shooting lanes set against steel targets in the far corner. Wooden dummies line one side, broken from repeated blows. Soldiers are everywhere, some practicing combatives, some running obstacle courses, others yelling at each other over a flurry of punches and kicks. The clatter of helmets, the dull thud of bodies hitting mats, it’s all orchestrated chaos.
“Careful, Captain Russo,” Giulia whispers, smirking. “You’re about to walk into Rahul territory.”
I roll my eyes. Rahul. The army’s resident pain in the ass. Tall, broad, cocky, with a permanent sneer that suggests the world owes him something. And he’s been eyeing me all morning. I try to ignore him. I really do. But he won’t let it go. He’s got a sixth sense for getting under my skin.
“Captain Russo,” he calls loudly, loud enough for everyone within earshot to turn, “I see they made you Captain because of your daddy. Must be nice, huh? Fast track to glory.”
The words hit, and my hand tightens into a fist. I glance at Giulia. She raises a brow but stays silent. Good. Let him start.
I keep walking, but he steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Come on, don’t pretend you’re too good to fight me. Or are you just afraid?” His tone is mocking, dripping with smugness.
I stop. Slowly, deliberately. My patience has a limit, and Rahul has just crossed it. “Afraid?” I draw out the word, letting it hang. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He tilts his head. “Because everyone here knows you’re daddy’s little miracle. You didn’t earn it—you were born into it.”
That’s it. My eyes narrow, my blood heats. If he wants a fight, he’s about to get one. I step forward, closing the space between us.
The air thickens. Soldiers and trainees begin to circle, sensing the tension. Whispers ripple across the grounds: “Rahul’s gonna get it.” “Wait until she wrecks him.” “This is gonna be good.”
I feint left, Rahul reacts, swinging a fist meant for my jaw. I lean back, feeling the whoosh of air as his knuckles cut past my cheek. I jab at his ribs, hard, feeling the satisfying crunch of impact.
He grunts, stepping back, reassessing. “Not bad,” he says, wiping blood from his lip—my first strike had nicked him. “You’ve got fight, I’ll give you that. But it won’t be enough.”
I smirk, letting a hint of sarcasm slip. “Says the guy standing in front of me, looking terrified.”
Rahul laughs—a deep, nasty laugh. “You think I’m scared? You’ll learn soon enough, Captain Russo. Let’s see what all that daddy’s money and medals mean in the real fight.”
We clash again. Hands, elbows, knees, feet—each strike precise, each counter calculated. I duck a hook, spinning, delivering a kick to his side. He stumbles but recovers, catching my wrist mid-swing, twisting sharply. Pain shoots up my arm, but I bite back a grunt, stomping on his foot to break his grip. He hisses.
Around us, the circle of soldiers grows. Eyes wide, breath held. Everyone wants to see the little miracle of General Russo’s daughter teach the cocky asshole a lesson.
I grab his shoulders and slam him into a padded dummy. He bounces back, snarling. “Not bad, Captain Russo. You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.”
I wipe sweat from my brow. “Guts? No. Skill. And brains.”
His smirk falters. I see it—he knows this fight isn’t just about brawn anymore. It’s about showing him that I earned my place. Not inherited it.
I move fast, too fast for his eyes to follow. A jab to the shoulder, an elbow to the ribs, a sweep that knocks him to the ground. He’s breathing hard, struggling to get up. My chest heaves, sweat dripping down my face, hair sticking to my forehead.
“You still think it’s daddy’s money?” I hiss. “Or did you realize I’m Captain Russo because I’ve got what it takes?”
Rahul gasps, looking up at me. Pride, anger, and disbelief mingled in his expression. Around us, the crowd cheers, clapping, shouting. Giulia stands a few steps back, her smirk wide.
I step closer, towering over him, my hands on my hips. “Next time you open your mouth about my father, remember this: I don’t fight like I’m daddy’s little girl. I fight like I’m me. Got it?”
He swallows hard. “Got it… Captain.”
I turn on my heel, my boots clicking on the concrete. Giulia falls in step beside me, shaking her head. “You make it look too easy.”
I smirk. “Because it is, when you know what you’re doing. And Rahul? He just learned that being a prick doesn’t make him untouchable.”
We leave the circle, soldiers still murmuring and stealing glances at the fight. I feel a pulse of satisfaction. Finally. A win that’s mine and mine alone. No medals. No daddy’s influence. Just skill, fire, and sheer determination.
As we walk back to the barracks, I glance at Giulia. “Thanks for letting me punch him in the face without getting into trouble.”
She laughs. “Always, sister. But next time, don’t hold back. Teach him the rest of the lesson he deserves.”
I smile faintly, letting the adrenaline fade.
When we return to the barracks, a fellow Captain in charge of another unit walks towards me. He salutes, and I salute back.
"General Russo wants you in his office immediately. He says to drop whatever it is you're doing and see him now."
I nod in acknowledgement and he walks away.
"What does that sorry excuse of a father want now?" Giulia scowls.
The hell if I know.